Of Men and Psychopaths
by Kat-Knife
Summary: I wish that he was the monster, the boogeyman that mothers whispered to their children about in secret, the psychopath. But he's not the psychopath, I am. Rose Weasley, the daughter of famed heroes, Hermione Weasley and Ron Weasley, is a psychopath. A strange and curious tale surrounding the outlook of a psychopath on the matter of one blond man. Dedicated to myhorserockyrocks.


**Dedicated to myhorserockyrocks**

* * *

I clench my eyes shut, trying to swallow the bile that rises up my throat, but it doesn't help. I can still see them wrapped around each other. His hands resting on the back of her neck, holding her ironically close, like he used to hold me. I swallow down the tears that threaten to fall down my eyes. I sniff roughly, putting my hands on the posh bathroom counter, my head held low, trying to _push_ down the overwhelming sadness that tries to engulf me in its bitter warmth.

"It will be ok. It will be ok." I repeat the mantra to myself, "He's a disgusting pig and you can do so much better than that."

I laugh a churlish smile at that. I know when I'm lying to myself. I know that I can't do better than him. He was perfect, or at least the closest thing to a perfect man as possible. His blonde hair, silvery gray eyes, his dimple seemingly inscribed onto his face, his smile ready to launch a thousand ships.

I know what people used to whisper about us when we used to go out in public or more specifically, me. As soon as their eyes would fall on him, their mouths would gape open in awe, a glazed look would enter their eyes, simply marveling in his almost god-like beauty before they finally snapped out of it, their eyes sliding over to the girl attached to his arm, me. A puzzled look would come over their faces, they would cock their heads in bafflement, their eyes flitting back and forth between us, unable to believe that he could possibly be with_ me_, a mousy little thing that could blend into the crowd, unnoticeable. Other people would try to look past his good looks to identify the monster that they knew was lying within him, not believing that something so perfect could exist. I couldn't blame either of those types of people. I know what it looked like and I didn't do anything to dispel the rumors.

I wish he was a monster, someone that I could hate. I wish that he was abusive, that he hit me, that he was cruel, brutal, vicious, but none of those words describe him, they describe me. I'm the monster that hides behind plain, mousy features. I'm the nightmare that mothers warn their children about. I'm the psychopath.

I glare at myself in the bathroom mirror, angry that the girl staring back at me looks so broken. With trembling hands, I rummage through my clutch for my medication. With a sigh of relief, I find it. I swiftly twist the cap open, only to look at the open container in horror. There's only one last tablet left. I can't, I can't...

I feel the panic climbing up in waves, I can't do this...I can't...

The loud banging of the restroom door opening interrupts me from my thoughts. I turn around to see Roxanne.

I feel my face drain of all color. She stares right back at me in horror, her tanned skin turning a pallid grey in a matter of a few seconds.

"R-Rose," she stammers out, looking panicked, her eyes flicking between me and the door which leads her back to freedom, to him.

"Roxy," I say flatly, my vision already narrowing, my teeth gritting as I look back at her. I want to rip her pretty, little face off. My fists curl tightly at my side. I have to control myself, I can't do this now, not at their wedding reception.

"Don't call me that!" She says spitefully at that, her eyes narrowing in anger at her old nickname, "You lost the right to call me that when you did what you did."

I laugh coldly at that, "What did I do to you Roxy? Because of me you have everything you could have possibly hoped for, you have him, the darling of the Wizarding World, Scorpius Malfoy."

Her breath comes out a little shortly and she looks ready to bolt in fear now, "You ruined his life, you turned it into a living nightmare. He showed me the scars you gave him. I'm helping him heal. We're trying to move on together."

I give her a frigid smile, making sure to showcase my canines, "Darling, he isn't a little toy that you can patch up. He's a human being and guess what?" I walk a little closer to her, leaning in so that I'm eye level with her, "He's still _mine._ "

I brush past her roughly, out of the bathroom, my heart racing. I want to go back inside and pummel her face in, but that wouldn't be very _constructive_, now would it be?

I can just hear my psychiatrist, Luna Sacamander, frowning at my sarcastic thoughts. I can already imagine the lecture that she would give me if she were here. I crack a smile at that, my anger dissipating a bit at the thought.

My heels click powerfully against the marble floor as I purposefully stride across the hallway leading back to the reception hall. I pause at the entrance, my eyes scanning the crowd for the tell-tale blonde hair. As soon as I see it I grin. I simply have to offer my congratulations.

I briskly make my way through the thick crowd, paying no attention to the drunken revelry that is all around me.

I tap her on the shoulder, a cool smile at the ready on my lips. She turns around, a bright, glowing grin etched onto her face, which quickly slips off when she sees me.

"Rose," she whispers out, looking shocked, "What are you doing here?"

"Victoire, I had to offer my congratulations. You know I wouldn't miss this for the world." I purr to her, enjoying the baffled look on her face.

"Thanks for coming." she tells me unconvincingly, reaching up to touch her unbound hair, a nervous tic that I know she has.

"Hmm." I hum back contentedly, enjoying her nervousness, though I quickly become bored of her as she tries to stammer out some kind of dribble that I'm positive I don't want to listen to.

I quickly draw her in close, pulling her into an awkward hug, cutting off her stuttering. I nod my head at her and wish her a goodbye before turning around to purposefully scan the crowd again. I have one more blond to see - scare - tonight.

I quickly spot him sitting by himself at the bar, thankfully alone. I make my way over to him and plunk myself down into a chair beside him.

"Go away." he tells me without looking at me, his head burrowed in his arms, "I don't want to talk to anyone who wants to_ fix_ me." he spits out the word fix, like it's some vulgar curse.

"That's a good thing, because I am not one of those people." I say calmly, motioning to the bartender for some water.

His head shoots up comically fast when he hears my voice, "Rose?"

"Yes," I state calmly, my eyebrow raised in amusement.

His expressions seems to be a mix between absolute terror and disgust. He looks at me without speaking for a few seconds, but then his face morphs into one of absolute fury, "How do you even have the _nerve_ to talk to me?" He growls at me in a low voice, his eyes alight with rage.

"I thought you missed me." I coo to him, a little bemused that he's capable of such anger.

He bares his teeth threateningly at me and then unsteadily clambers out of his chair, "Don't ever come near me again, you_ witch_." Then he turns away from me, and with his drink clenched in his tight grip, wanders away.

I watch him go with sad eyes. What I wouldn't do to have him back. I am glad that I didn't take my medication today. I know the consequences of skipping, but for right now, this second, I'm glad I didn't because otherwise the medication would have made me too timid to approach him, even if he did say some hurtful words. I'm still glad that I was able to have this tiny, hate-filled moment with him.

_"I may suffer from insanity, but I enjoy every minute of it."_ I think bitterly to myself, gulping down the ice-cold drink.

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**The quote "I may suffer from insanity, but I enjoy every minute of it." is taken from the profile page of myhorserockyrocks. **


End file.
